"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. You're going to sit right here until you've told me everything. More than you told Jackson. With me, you're not going to leave out a single, self-interested detail."
She sat up on her own, stripped the kerchief from her hair and used it to dry her eyes. Took her time, seemed very tired. I expected anger. Instead, her face only registered pain. Watched her take a deep breath, hesitate, then breathe out through her mouth. "Okay. I'm not sayin' they did it, but there are . . . some guys camped north of Gumbo Limbo. A little stretch of beach—we call it Copper Rim, but you won't find it on the chart. They're netters, but mostly outsiders: Georgia, a few from Texas, North Florida . . . like that. Friends ofjimmy's. His drinkin' buddies."
"What makes you think it was them?"
"Give me a chance, I'll tell you. The last few years, they've come down for the roe season and camped there. Copper Rim's got enough water for their boats, plus there's a little footpath through the mangroves out to the main road. I know they got in thick with a local man, Kemper Waits, and I think it's them that's been stealin' boats and stuff. Maybe Kemper was behind the bombing, I don't know—he talks real mean and he's about half crazy. But the boat stealin', I'm pretty sure about. They strip the engines off, hide them somewhere—I don't know where—then somehow ship them north to sell for parts."
"Did you tell Jackson this?"
She sat silently for a time, then said in a small voice, "No. Not the part about the boat stealing."
"Where the tourist found Tomlinson—was it near the footpath that leads to Copper Rim?"
She had her face in her hands. "That's why I'm not sure. They found Tommy way, way south. A lot closer to Curlew than Gumbo Limbo or Rancho."
"But you suspect them."
She looked up, made a helpless gesture. "I don't know. Yesterday, Tommy, he said something about how it sure would help our cause if we could stop them boys from stealin' boats, stringing cables. That kind of business. He said maybe somebody ought to go up and talk with them. Try to reason with 'em."
I could hear Tomlinson on the telephone saying, Should the scientific observer ever allow himself to intercede?
"Is that all he said?"
"Yeah, that's all he said. He had my truck if he wanted to use it. That's the way he spent his days—writing away on my book, driving around and talkin' to the fishermen. He was . . . happy. Everybody he met on the island liked him. Nobody I ever talked to even hinted about him maybe bein' there to spy on us."
I said, "When you went home and changed clothes tonight, was your truck still there?"
"Uh-huh, that's how I got into town, but. . ." She paused for a moment, reflecting. "Now that I think about it, the truck wasn't parked the way we usually park it. We always back it in. I guess I didn't even notice, I was so upset about Tommy."
"Someone involved with the attack on Tomlinson could have brought the truck back."
"I guess . . . yeah. The keys were in the ignition. I looked all over the house, and that's where I finally found them."
I said, "Do you think there's any chance that Raymond Tullock was behind it?"
That surprised her. "Raymond? Why would he . . . ?"
"Come on, Hannah. Tonight can't be the first time Tullock's behaved like some jealous freak."
"Well, no . . . he's always jealous of me. Every man he ever sees me talkin' to, he's jealous. He's in love with me. He says he wants to marry me. But I don't think he could do something like—"
"Was he jealous of Tomlinson?"
"Course he was. He hated the idea of Tommy sleeping there under the same roof. Tommy and me were never lovers. Not that I would've told Raymond. What business was it of his? But aside from some real sweet. . . stuff, Tommy and I never—"
I didn't want to hear it. "What about Arlis Futch? Was Tullock jealous of Arlis?"
She was shaking her head. "Raymond never knew about Arlis. You're the only one I ever told about that. He knew Arlis and I were close. He didn't trust Arlis, but he had no reason to be jealous."
I thought: Arlis Futch is still alive. "So why do you keep Raymond around, Hannah? That's the part you're leaving out. Because he found a better market for your fish? Because it's a chance for you to meet some contacts in Asia? That's bullshit. Tell me why."
"Because I was using him, that's why!" Hannah yelled it, as she yanked her arm away, then stood. "I was using him just the way he planned to use me! Is that so hard to understand?" She crossed the room, felt around on the wall . . . and the shadows were suddenly flooded out by a sterile glare of neon light. She closed the door and turned before saying in a calmer, more controlled voice: "Raymond wants the land, Ford. Him and some of his Tallahassee buddies. They want Arlis's fish house and his pasture acreage so they can build a marina and a condominium village to go with it. They knew the net ban would put us out of business. That's the only reason Raymond ever came sniffm' around Gumbo Limbo. Yeah, he's been makin' money brokering our fish. But he'll make a hell of a lot more brokering our land."
"Does he know you realize that?"
She made a fluttering sound with her lips. "Raymond's too busy bein' tricky to worry about what anyone else knows. Now the poor bastard wants me as much as he wants the land. Hell, me and the land, we've come to be 'bout the same thing in his mind. So Raymond's been real careful about what he says. He kind'a hinted around to Arlis and me that yeah, since we had to give up mullet fishin' anyway, why not let him handle things? See if he could sweet-talk some investors into taking all that property off our hands. Or maybe the investors would let Arlis and me keep a little percentage. Like he's doing us a big favor." Hannah smiled—not a very nice smile. "So Arlis and me, we played along with it. Raymond says, 'I fought hard against that net ban,' we say, 'Sure you did, Raymond. You're a good ol' boy, just like one of us.' "
I said, "I don't see how that's using him."
"The men Raymond's got as backers? They're what he calls 'professional environmentalists.' What they really do is all the surveys and studies so developers can get their state permits. They're old buddies of his from the Fisheries Conservation Board. We told Raymond we might be willing to include them in some kind of corporation, but first we wanted them to go ahead and get the zoning changed on our land from agricultural to commercial. Like about seven or eight thousand dollars' worth of work—just to show their heart's in the right place."
"But Arlis's fish house is already zoned commercial. It has to be—"
"The cattle pasture across the road isn't," she said. "Arlis's fifteen acres and my three acres. Where they want their condominium project to go."
"Did you sign any sort of contract?"
"You keep thinking I'm dumb, Ford. I'm a lot of things, but dumb is not one of them. Besides, the only contract Raymond's interested in is the one I keep between my legs. Nope, no contract. I want the zoning changed so I can get my fish farm goin'. That and maybe a little marina. Just Arlis and me. We couldn't afford to get it changed on our own—even if we do get our money from the state." She was shaking out the bandanna, retying it in her hair. "So now I guess you think I'm a sneaky little bitch, using Raymond the way I am." She was looking at me, expecting an answer.
"Would it matter to you if I did?"
She made a small noise of exasperation as she opened the door, then stood in the doorway, studying me with her dark eyes. "Know what, Ford? It would matter to me. It'd matter a lot." As she turned to leave, I heard her say, "But you probably wouldn't believe that, either."
Chapter 15
That morning—a winter-bright early Wednesday morning—I bolted the door after entering my house, and I hunted around through the desk until I found two small stainless steel keys. One key fit the bottom drawer of my fireproof clothes locker. I used the key to open the drawer, then removed the neat stacks of clothing therein. Also unlocked and removed the drawer's false bottom—which revealed equally neat stacks of folders, two bogus passports, some clothing, and other detritus from a life I thought I had abandoned long ago.